Words Can Never Hurt Me
by Addicted Archangel
Summary: After a closing a grueling case, Spencer Reid returns home only to find that he's not alone in his apartment. An abduction is the start of a frightening ordeal for the young genius and his team is struggling to help him.
1. Taken

**A/N: Kickoff for a new multi-chapter series! Have to do something now that school is over.. Hope you like it! Beta read by the lovely LT!**

-o-o-o-

_The word is half his that speaks, and half his that hears it._

_- Michel de Montaigne_

-o-o-o-

Slamming the door shut behind him, Spencer Reid drew a deep breath as he leaned back against it, closing his eyes. He just stood there for a few moments and took in the wondrous silence that reigned within his walls. There really was no place like home. And he was finally in it.

Locking the door, Reid wriggled out of his coat and kicked off his shoes, dropping his over night bag in the small hallway. He decided to unpack it tomorrow. There was nothing he wanted more than to go to bed and pull the covers over his head, shielding himself from all the terrors the world around him was throwing their way.

They had spent over a week in Salt Lake City on a case involving pre-pubescent girls, and it had been beyond grueling. Reid never wanted to see Salt Lake City again after finally closing the case. He would forever associate that town with what he had seen, heard and been told, and the pictures were less than pretty. They would most likely give him nightmares for the rest of his life. Like he didn't have enough of those already.

Unbuttoning his shirt as he walked down the hallway towards the living room, he felt his body beginning to cave in from fatigue and complete exhaustion. He dropped the brown and beige garment on the floor of the living room and plopped down onto the couch. He could finally put his feet up on the table and relax for the first time in over a week.

Reid reached for the remote control and lazily flipped on the TV. National Geographic's Channel came on, featuring a show about manatees. With a slight sigh, Reid leaned on the armrest and rubbed his hand over his chest. He'd been coughing a lot in Utah and his chest was still sore. Maybe he was coming down with something.

As he watched the manatees eat and mate, he slowly slipped away from reality and into a dreamless, exhausted sleep.

-o-o-o-

_Crash._

Reid woke with a start. The apartment was pitch black but the TV was still on. Somewhere in the flat, something had fallen down and made a crash loud enough to wake him up.

Instinctively, he went for his gun, but remembered that he had put it on the hallway table before going into the living room. Slowly, he rose from the couch, trying to make as little sound as possible. Was there someone in his apartment?

"Hello?" he called, and instantly regretted it. If there really was someone there, now they knew that he was awake. He needed to get to his gun.

He padded silently across the floor and into the hallway. He'd have to pass the bedroom door in order to get to the hallway table and his gun.

_You're acting paranoid, _he thought to himself_. There's no one in here. It was probably just a neighbor or something. Or the wind._

Reid tip-toed through the hallway, sight set on the gun, but eyes locked on the bedroom door. Just as he reached it, he stopped. With a quick step, he passed the door and jumped on his gun, nearly ripping it from its holster. With the weapon in his hands, he felt slightly safer.

He threw a quick glance into the kitchen before entering, holding the gun aimed in front of him. The kitchen was completely empty. Not as much as a breeze from the window or a shadow dancing in the corner. All was still and silent. He did a quick search before moving out into the hallway again. Everything was still silent except for the TV which still ran in the living room. Reid could hear the narrator talking about farming in northern Arizona.

The young agent held his gun up in front of him as he quickly turned and stepped into the last room - the bedroom - flipping on the light. Another empty, silent room. At least now Reid could see what the crash had been caused by. A book had fallen off a shelf and onto the window sill, hitting a lamp and sending it hurling onto the floor. It had shattered into about 3000 pieces which Reid had no intention to clean up tonight.

"Alright", he mumbled, securing his gun. "You are way too paranoid."

Walking out of the bedroom, he put the gun back on the hallway table where his credentials were already placed, and then headed back into the kitchen. He wanted coffee so very badly, but a quick glance at his watch told him that it was much too late for that. Coffee at 3AM would not be a good idea. At least not with his already sensitive stomach. Plus, he needed all the sleep he could get. He decided to settle for a glass of water.

Downing the cool liquid, he placed the glass in the sink and flipped the light back off, heading down the hallway. His entire body screamed for sleep and he was not going to object any more. He returned to the bedroom and made up his bed for the night. At least he'd get to sleep in tomorrow. Saturdays were the best day of the entire week.

With a yawn, he began pulling off the rest of his clothes, placing them less than neatly on an armchair in the corner. He avoided stepping where the broken lamp was, because he wasn't in the mood to pull shards of glass out of his feet at three in the morning. His bare legs were still wobbly from the fatigue and all the excess adrenaline that was running through his veins, as he headed back to the living room to turn out the TV and finally get some sleep.

The moment Reid clicked the off-button on the TV, he could feel someone grabbing him from behind, throwing an arm around Reid's torso. The split second it took the young agent to react, jerk and let out a yelp was enough for the grip to harden and Reid was yanked backwards.

A sharp sting in his neck made him yell out as he fought to get loose. His one and only instinct was to get to his gun. He didn't have time to curse himself for leaving the weapon in the hallway.

Reid's head began spinning as he struggled with the stranger behind him, and clouds were drifting over his eyes. Panic spread wildly in the young agent's body as he felt his limbs stop obeying him. His attempts to struggle became weaker and weaker until his legs no longer had the strength to keep him upright.

_What did he…give me..?_

Reluctantly, Reid felt himself slip to the floor, still in the tight hold of the intruder behind him. His head was spinning out of control and all attempts to break free were too weak to be even noticeable. Finally, his eyes rolled back into his head and everything went black.

The intruder let go of the limp man in his hands and stood up, admiring his work. A lanky, unconscious FBI-agent lay on the floor in front of him, wearing nothing but his boxers. The man nodded shortly, and then turned around, heading for the bedroom. As he walked through the hallway, he stuck the syringe back into its case and put it in his inner pocket.

With black gloves on his hands, the man rummaged through the closets until he had gathered up a bunch of clothes. Shirts, socks, underwear and pants. Not so gently he pushed them into a green bag he found in one of the closets. Throwing the bag into the hallway, he swept up the pieces of glass from the floor and carried them along with the broken lamp to the kitchen, tossing it in the bin.

The gun, cuffs and credentials on the hallway table went into the bag as well, along with two pairs of shoes and a thin jacket. In the bathroom, the man grabbed toothbrush, shaver and shampoo, and they went the same way all the other items had gone.

"This should do", he mumbled, closing the bag. He threw a glance at his wrist watch. 3.20AM. He nodded to himself again.

The intruder made his way back into the living room and the unconscious man on the floor. With little effort, he grabbed one of the thin arms and hoisted the young agent up head first over one of his shoulders. The man groaned as Reid finally was in place.

"You look like you weigh a buck twenty soaking wet, but kid – you're heavy", he mumbled as he took a good hold of Reid's legs and walked out of the living room, agent over his shoulder.

He bent down and grabbed the bag with Reid's clothes and things in them and swung the strap over his other shoulder. After flipping out the lights in the bedroom and kitchen, he took Reid's keys from their hook on the wall.

Throwing one last look into the apartment, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything, the man peered out the peep hole in the door and made sure the coast was clear. The only person he could possibly encounter at this time a day, in this part of town, was the paper boy. And he could handle a paper boy. As he saw that the outside hallway was empty, he unlocked the door and stepped out, maneuvering Reid's body so that he wouldn't bang the doorway.

Closing the door behind him, he secured both locks and then began his walk down the stairs. It was a precarious walk, but thankfully it was only one floor to cover. There wasn't a sound in the building, except for someone who had most likely fallen asleep with the TV on, and the voice of John McClane echoed through one of the hallways as the intruder passed the door on light feet.

Without encountering anyone on his short walk, the man made it out onto the street where his car was waiting for him. It took him only moments to open the trunk and stuff the lanky young agent into it. A quick calculation told him that the drug wouldn't wear off until they got to their destination, but just in case…

Opening the green bag with Reid's things, he pulled out the standard issue cuffs and clamped them around the unconscious agent's wrists.

"Now we're good", he mumbled with a smirk and slammed the trunk shut, locking Reid inside. Throwing the bag into the back seat of his BMW, he jumped in the driver's seat and fired up the motor.

"Time to go, Dr. Reid", he said as he turned on the radio. "You have an appointment that you can't miss."

AC/DC was booming out of the speakers as the man drove off into the night, with Reid helplessly bound in the trunk, oblivious to the world around him.


	2. Without A Trace

**A/N: Humptidum, this story got HUGE attention! Thank you all! I'm kinda feeling a lot of pressure here to make it good, tho.. I promise, it will be good. Or at least I hope it will be :D Beta read by the lovely LT, next chapter will be up before Friday! Enjoy!**

-o-o-o-

_"One is never lost. One is always where one is supposed to be."  
-- Hadji Singh_

-o-o-o-

**Monday**

"No sign of Reid today?" Hotch looked around the bullpen. All of the other agents were accounted for, except for the youngest member of the team.

"Nope", Morgan said, looking around casually. "He probably just overslept."

Prentiss shook her head in disbelief. "I've been here for years and I've never once seen him oversleep. Hasn't he called?"

"No", Hotch said, shaking his head slightly.

"Maybe he just needs some time after that last case. It was pretty bad." Morgan dropped some files on the table next to him. "If he needs time…"

"If he needed time he should have called", Hotch interjected. "Not just decide not to show up for work. Call him. Find out what's going on. I have a meeting in five minutes, I'll see you later." With that, he turned away from the group and continued on his way to his meeting with Erin Strauss. He was not happy that one of his agents had decided to go AWOL. There was always the chance of them being rushed of to Hicksville, Arkansas on a case, and it was crucial that their team was always reachable.

Watching his boss walk away, Morgan pulled up his phone to call Reid. To his dismay, the phone was shut off. "He turned the phone off", he said, flipping it closed.

Prentiss sighed. "What's he up to? It's not like him to be like this."

"I still think he needed some time to gather his thoughts after that case."

"Maybe." Prentiss nodded. "We'll try again later."

"Yeah." There wasn't much else they could do now, and Morgan knew what it was like to need time. He didn't want to intrude on his co-workers personal space, even though he was concerned. He could give it until tomorrow. Or at least a few hours.

-o-o-o-

**Tuesday**

As Morgan walked through the glass doors into the BAU-office, all he could think about was that he hoped Reid would sit at his desk as he always did, fiddling with his papers and drinking his jumbo-size cup of coffee from the coffee shop he always stopped at before coming into work. He would be reading his papers, mouthing along as he read. He'd sip his coffee and bite his lip, trying to figure out how to proceed with his work. He'd cross and uncross his legs restlessly while pushing wayward strands of hair out of his face as he spun his cup absent mindedly on the table. That was Reid.

But as Morgan stepped into the bullpen, there was no resident genius to be found. His desk was gaping empty and paper work was piling up in the inbox. Morgan sighed. Now he knew something was wrong.

He had been calling Reid once every hour the day before, and two times as he got up that morning. Not once had there even been a signal. The phone was off and there was no getting a hold of the young agent.

"Any word?" Prentiss wondered as Morgan walked up to her. Her concerns were just as great as Morgan's. She might not be on a sister/brother basis with Reid, but she knew him well enough to know that this was not like him at all. His work was basically all he had, and he'd never ignore it like this.

"Nothing. He hasn't turned his phone on."

"God, Hotch is gonna throw a fit." Placing her hands on her hips, Prentiss drew a deep breath. "What are we going to do?"

"What are we going to do about what?" Rossi's voice came from behind them.

Morgan turned to face him. "Reid's not in and we can't get a hold of him."

Rossi frowned. "That's not good. He wasn't here yesterday either. Is he sick?"

"We don't know, no one's heard a word from him since we left work on Friday."

"You don't think something's happened to him, do you?" Prentiss ran her fingers through her hair, worry ghosting across her face.

"Something's definitely not kosher around here", Morgan concluded. He took his jacket from his chair and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Prentiss asked, although she already knew the answer.

Pulling on the black leather garment, Morgan gritted his teeth slightly. "Reid's apartment. I have a spare key at home for when I water his plants while he visits his mother."

"Take Rossi with you." The familiar voice of their unit chief came from up the stairs, and they turned around. Hotch was standing outside his office door, a grim look on his face. He wasn't happy about the situation, but did his best not to let his worry shine through is stoic exterior. If the commanding officer began to show that kind of weakness among his crew, the system would fall apart. He chose to hide his true emotions.

Morgan nodded. "Okay." Accompanied by Rossi, he left the bullpen and headed home to collect the spare key. Just in case Reid didn't answer the door.

-o-o-o-

Seven knocks and three rings after they had arrived at Reid's place, the two agents decided that it was enough. There was definitely enough cause to use the spare key. Morgan looked at Rossi, who nodded, and the spare key was pulled out of the pocket and shoved into the lock.

The door slid open and revealed nothing but a silent, empty apartment.

"Reid?" Morgan called into the silence. There was no answer. "Reid, it's Morgan and Rossi." Nothing.

The two agents entered the apartment slowly, hands ready to go for their guns should the situation call for it. But for the most part they were just worried about their youngest colleague.

"No signs of a struggle", Rossi said as he peered into the living room. There were books everywhere, floor to ceiling. He wasn't exactly surprised, considering that the younger agent must have acquired his extensive knowledge from somewhere. This explained a lot.

"No note", Morgan said, looking at the fridge and the notepad by the phone. "Nothing. It's like he just got up and left."

Rossi crouched by a slightly open dresser drawer. "Wherever he's gone to, it looks like he brought some clothes." Things were definitely missing from the drawer. It looked like someone had just reached in and grabbed whatever he could get his hands on.

"He packed a bag and took off?" Morgan leaned against the door post, looking questioningly at his senior colleague. "That doesn't sound like him. He's a pedantic neat freak; he'd never leave things in disarray. And he's too bound to his work not to let us know where he went."

"His mother", Rossi commented. "Isn't she in some sort of hospital?"

"Yeah, a sanitarium in Las Vegas."

"Maybe she took ill. He could have just been too stressed out and worried to remember calling us."

"No", Morgan said firmly. "No, he wouldn't. Rossi… Something's wrong."

"And I'm reaching for straws." Rossi knew it. He didn't want to believe that something could have happened to the young agent. "Maybe we should call the sanitarium and see if he's there. There are not a lot of other places he could be."

Morgan nodded. "He should have the number around here somewhere." Making his way back to the kitchen, he searched the neat pile of old letters and envelopes until he found what he was looking for. A letter from Bennington with contact information. He dialed.

"Hello, this is Agent Derek Morgan of the FBI. I'm looking for one of our agents, Dr. Spencer Reid? His mother is a resident with you."

There were a few moments of silence as Morgan listened to the orderly on the other end of the line. Rossi joined him in the kitchen, and stood beside him waiting for the reply.

"He's not? Alright." Morgan shook his head. "Has his mother had any difficulties that could have caused him to rush off and visit her?"

More silence, but Morgan's face took on a shade of concern mixed with irritation. "No?" A sigh. "Well, if he does show up, could you ask him to call us? It's very important. Thank you."

Hanging up the phone and shoving it back into his pocket, he turned to Rossi. "Nothing. They haven't seen him since Christmas. Where the hell is he?"

"I have no idea. Does he have anyplace he likes to go to when he wants to get away?"

"Not that I know of. I've never seen him go anywhere else than home after work, and I don't know what he does on the weekends." Morgan sighed again.

Rossi looked at his watch. "We can't do anything here; let's head back to the office. Maybe Garcia can put a trace on the phone?"

"Not if it's not on."

"At least she can put it under surveillance." Rossi pulled his own phone up and flipped it open, dialing.

"_Oracle of Quantico, speak, oh fortunate one."_

"Garcia, I need a trace on Reid's cell phone."

"_He's still missing?"_ Rossi could hear the worry in Garcia's voice.

"Unfortunately, yes. Can you put his phone on surveillance and also check if there are any airline tickets or such bought in his name?"

"_I am on it as we speak, Sir. I'll call you back as soon as I have something."_

"Do that." Rossi hung up the phone and put it back into his pocket.

"If there's anything out there, Garcia will find it." Morgan was certain that if anyone could get a trace on their youngest member, it was Garcia. A needle in a pile of needles would be no problem for their technical analyst's swift mind and fingers.

"Let's hope so." Rossi nodded and looked around the kitchen. "This kid is even more pedantic than I am", he said when his eyes fell on the meticulously arranged spice rack and the row of utensils carefully hung over the counter.

Morgan snickered slightly. "Hard to believe, huh? He's constantly confused and his desk is a mess. But his apartment is always spotless. I dare you to find dust."

"That bad?" Rossi smiled and looked around, touching the counter with his fingertips. Absent mindedly, he opened the door to the cabinet under the sink. "Huh."

"What?"

"Looks like Reid had a little accident." He pointed to the broken lamp and shards of glass in the bin inside the cabinet.

Morgan looked at the mess in the bin. "That lamp's from the bedroom." He walked out into the hallway and to the bedroom. As he reached the window, something began crunching under his feet. Looking down, he noticed several shards of left behind glass on the floor. "Rossi."

The older agent accompanied Morgan in the bedroom. "Glass", Rossi said as Morgan indicated to the floor. "Would he have left it behind like that?"

"Not a chance. Someone's been cleaning up here." Morgan felt his heart beginning to beat faster. He'd had his suspicions already that something had happened to his little brother, but finding the glass on the floor settled it for him. Something was definitely wrong now. "There are no other signs of a struggle."

"We don't know if anything happened just yet."

"I know." Morgan gritted his teeth. "But he wouldn't take off like this." Walking out into the living room, he scrutinized the apartment. "There's nothing here. He must have been caught off guard."

"It's his own apartment. Of course he was taken by surprise; he wouldn't be expecting anyone being in here." Rossi felt complied to follow Morgan's train of thought. Everything about this situation rang 'abduction'. But why? And by who?

"We need to call Hotch." The second Morgan reached for his phone, Rossi's phone went off.

"Rossi."

"_There's nothing",_ Garcia's voice chimed through the cell as Rossi put it on speaker. _"No train, flight or bus tickets, no one has requested permission to use the jet and his phone is still off. But I have it on surveillance; if it turns on I can triangulate it in less than three minutes."_

"Sounds good, Garcia", Morgan said as he nodded to Rossi to follow him out the door. "Do you have a last dialed number?"

"_You're speaking to the mistress of all that is crackable, sweetie – reluctant phone companies are easy. Last dialed number from his cell is Hotch's cell on Thursday while you were still in Salt Lake City. The last dialed number from his home phone is two months old and it's to Bennington. He doesn't use his home phone much, does he?"_

"Apparently not", Morgan mumbled. "No word from him back at Quantico?"

"_Not that I know of. Morgan, where is he?"_ The worry in Garcia's voice was much more than obvious.

"I don't know, Garcia. But I'll find out. You keep a look out if he turns his phone on. Rossi and I are going back to Quantico now."

"_Okay, I'll see you soon then. And keep me updated!"_

"Sure thing, mama."

Click.

Rossi put away the phone and the two men walked out of the bedroom. "So now what?"

"Put out a missing person report and get people keeping a look out for him." Morgan wished there was more they could do.

"There really is no obvious sign of foul play yet."

"What more do you need?" Morgan turned angrily to his senior colleague.

Rossi nodded. "You're right. We'll go back to Quantico and get things rolling. I'll call Hotch."

As Rossi went out of the apartment, dialing their unit chief, Morgan locked the door to Reid's apartment. He stopped for a second and drew a breath.

_Why is it always Reid? We'll find you, bro. Just hang tight, wherever you are._

He pulled the key from the lock and followed his colleague out to the car, and they sped off towards Quantico.

-o-o-o-

_Stop… Please… Stop… I can't… Can't… No more… Please…_

-o-o-o-


	3. Once A Hero

**A/N: Hey everybody, I know you've been waiting for this - so without further adue, here's chapter 3! Wish our heroes good luck... Beta read by the lovely LT!  
**

-o-o-o-

_"Few things are impossible to diligence and skill. Great works are performed not by strength, but perseverance.__"  
-- Samuel Johnson_

_-o-o-o-_

**Wednesday**

The night between Tuesday and Wednesday, Morgan had slept with his phone in his hand, just in case Reid would call. Not that he had gotten much sleep in the first place. His entire body was in turmoil. One of their own was missing without the shadow of a trace, and there was nothing they could do.

They had sent out an APV and listed him as a missing person, but basically they had done all they could. Reid's apartment was completely clean except for the broken lamp. Hotch had called in CSU the day before to process the apartment, and they had come up empty. Not a single fingerprint, fiber or hair, no blood or traces at all. The way it looked at this time, it was like the young agent had simply thrown some things in a bag and taken off.

Morgan was about to hit the ceiling. He hated feeling this helpless, especially when someone this close to him was in possible peril. If it was up to him, he'd call in every agent all over the country to go knocking on doors, but naturally that would be absolutely impossible. He just wanted to find Reid.

There was this nagging feeling inside Morgan that told him that something was very, very wrong. There had to be foul play involved, and his team concurred with him. They all knew Reid well enough to know that this was not something he'd do voluntarily.

As Morgan stepped through the doors of the BAU-office, he once again hoped that he would find his youngest team member by his desk, fiddling with his papers and drinking his coffee. But his desk was gaping empty. He walked past his desk and up the stairs to Hotch's office, and without knocking he went inside.

"He's not here. Has he called?"

Hotch looked up from his pile of papers, worry in his eyes. "Not a word. I've put out a report to all the field offices about his disappearance but so far I haven't heard anything."

"Goddamnit!" Morgan was close to slamming his fist into the wall, but he knew the situation wouldn't improve by doing so. "Hotch, we've gotta find him."

"We're working on it, Morgan." Hotch's dark eyes stared straight into Morgan's. "Keep a cool head; we need the entire team at their best."

"The entire team, yeah. That means Reid too." Morgan gritted his teeth.

"We're all doing our best. Rossi and Prentiss are over at Reid's place knocking on doors to see if anyone heard anything, and they have eight officers with them. Garcia's keeping his phone under surveillance."

"And what am I supposed to do? Sit here and twiddle my thumbs?"

"You are going to his coffee shop and wherever he usually goes when he's not at work and see if anyone's seen him."

"Alright." Morgan nodded. "I'll check in with Garcia before I go."

"Keep me posted. I have an appointment with Captain Gardner in half an hour to arrange a search." Hotch put the papers away and turned out the desk light. "I'll call with the details later."

The two men nodded in agreement and Morgan left the room, sight set on Garcia's little bunker. As he reached it, he knocked the door frame. "Hey sweetie."

Garcia spun around in her chair, deeply focused on the information she was currently processing. "Oh! Morgan! Don't do that!"

"Sorry. How's the search going?" Morgan entered the room and stood next to Garcia as she turned back to her computers.

"I'm coming up with absolutely zilch here. God, I have to find _something_…" Garcia's voice was muddled with held back tears.

Morgan could sense her pain. He felt the same way. The helplessness. The desperation. It was overwhelming not to be able to find Reid and it was a knot in everybody's stomachs not even knowing who took him. "I have something for you to find."

Garcia's head jerked up, and hope shone brightly in her eyes. "What?"

"I need you to pull up information on his credit card."

"Give me 20 seconds", she said, and her fingers were already flying across the keyboard. A few moments later, the screen lit up. "Here we go. It hasn't been used since last Wednesday for a purchase of coffee in Salt Lake City. Damnit…"

"That's okay, honey. Now tell me what places he usually uses the card in so I know where to go to look for him."

"Okay…" Garcia scrolled the page down and compared purchases. "Starbucks on Grover Street nine times per week, Utopia Bookstore on West twice per week and an Italian restaurant on Bleecher Avenue called La Vita Bella every Tuesday. You need more?"

"That's enough for now; I'll call when I need more to go on. You did good, baby." He gave Garcia a short hug and a smile before walking towards the door.

"Tell me we'll find him." Garcia swallowed hard as she asked a question she couldn't bear getting the wrong answer to.

Morgan drew a deep breath. "We'll find him." With that, he left the bunker to hopefully catch a scent of his kid brother.

-o-o-o-

Prentiss and Rossi left the 12th apartment, just as empty handed as they arrived. None of Reid's neighbors had heard a thing from his apartment for days. They were used to the silence; the young resident never made much noise when he was at home. They would most likely have noticed if there was anything out of the ordinary happening in the apartment. This was a nice neighborhood and there weren't many disturbances. If anything happened, one could be sure that the neighbors would be aware of it.

"This is taking us nowhere", Prentiss concluded. "Whatever happened here went by completely unnoticed. How is that even possible?"

"Well, if there was no struggle, there wouldn't be anything to notice", Rossi replied while stuffing his credentials back into his pocket. "Everything supports that he knew the abductor. There were no signs of forced entry, no signs of a struggle. He could very well have let the perpetrator in voluntarily."

Prentiss knew that Rossi was right. Everything pointed to the fact that Reid had been taken by someone he knew. If he had been taken at all. No one knew for sure. All they knew was that Reid was missing and they needed to find him.

"We have nine apartments to go. Better get moving." The two agents continued down the hallway towards the next apartment, hoping to get some sort of information from the residents.

-o-o-o-

Morgan exited the Utopia Bookstore with a grim look on his face. The owner and employees knew Reid very well, but couldn't provide any information about him at this time. They hadn't seen him for over a week.

He waited outside the bookstore after receiving a call from Prentiss that they were on their way over there to go with him to the next destination. None of the residents of Reid's apartment building had been of any help, although all of them wanted nothing more than to be able to assist. They all liked the young, silent man on the first floor and hoped that nothing bad had happened to him.

The black SUV pulled up to the curb next to Morgan, and he approached the passenger side. "Anything?"

Prentiss shook her head. "No. They haven't heard a thing."

"Damnit", Morgan mumbled. "We're running out of roads to go."

"There's gotta be something more we can do."

Rossi's phone began ringing, and Morgan and Prentiss fell silent as he answered. "Rossi. What? Alright, we'll be right there." Click.

"What?" Morgan felt a sharp sting of fear in his chest.

"They've found Reid's bag." He started up the car.

"Where?" Morgan's heart jumped half way out his chest as his legs made a move towards his car automatically.

"Cincinnati!" Rossi called as he pushed the pedal to the metal and sped off, narrowly missing a head-on collision with a semi.

-o-o-o-

Six hours later, the BAU walked into the Cincinnati PD headquarters. A detective greeted them at the door.

"Agent Hotchner, I presume?" he said, reaching out a hand.

Hotch took his hand, shaking it briefly. "Yes, hello Detective Holden. This is my team; Agents Morgan, Rossi and Prentiss and media liaison Jareau."

"Would have been nicer to meet under more pleasant circumstances", the detective said, motioning the team towards one of the conference rooms. "I'm sorry to hear about your agent."

"You found his bag?" Morgan asked, having grown tired of the casual talk. He wanted to see with his own eyes what they had found.

"Yes, it's right through here."

"How did you know it was Reid's?" Rossi asked as they entered the room, and his eyes fell on the green bag on the table.

"Mainly because of this." The detective pulled on a white latex glove and lifted an item from the bag. It was Reid's credentials.

Reality hit all of the agents at once. They had the proof they needed to know that Reid was in trouble. Up until now, everything had been purely coincidental and nothing had made sense. It still didn't make sense, but now they could take a firm hold of the situation. Hotch cleared his throat.

"Do you have an extra?" He reached for a glove and slid it on his hand before reaching into the bag, pulling out item after item.

"Someone sure wanted to make it look like he went willingly. Shirts, shoes, socks. Toothbrush." Morgan watched as Hotch examined the contents of the bag.

Hotch put the things back into the bag. "We need them all thoroughly processed."

"I have a CSU-team standing by to take care of it; we were just waiting for your clearance."

"This is a federal case now." Hotch pulled out Reid's gun, checking the bullets. They were all there. "I'll call the Cincinnati field office and have the tech lab set up for this."

"Whatever you want, Agent Hotchner." Detective Holden knew it would be no use trying to convince the unit chief that his CSU-team was just as good as the federal team. The case concerned one of their own, and he completely understood that Agent Hotchner wanted his own people on the case. "Let me know if I can be of any help. My department is at your service."

"Where was the bag found?" Rossi wondered.

"In a dumpster outside a Chinese restaurant."

"Give me the address. Prentiss and I will go check it out and talk to the staff and people around." Morgan wanted to spring into action; he couldn't stand being unproductive any longer.

Hotch nodded. "Go. I'll stay here with JJ. Rossi, you go to the field office and make arrangements."

"Alright." Morgan turned quickly, giving Prentiss' arm a pat. He wanted to go _now_.

Hotch's cell phone began ringing and he pulled off the glove before answering. Unknown number.

"Hotchner." A short moment of silence, and he spun around. "Morgan!"

Morgan and Prentiss stopped just before they reached the front door. "What is it?"

Hotch waved his hand frantically for them to return. He put his focus back on the phone. "Are you okay? Where are you?" he asked eagerly.

Prentiss looked at Rossi. "Who's on the phone?"

Rossi shook his head.

"Alright, we'll be there soon. I'll send someone to meet you there. _Stay there!_" He emphasized the last words before hanging up.

"Who was that?" Morgan asked excitedly, hoping he'd get the answer he wanted.

"Reid." Hotch was already dialing a new number on his phone.

"Is he okay? Where is he?" Prentiss blurted in pure relief as she felt her heart skip a couple of beats.

"He's okay, but a little out of it." Hotch put the phone to his ear.

"Where is he?!" Morgan wanted to strangle his slow-speaking colleague.

"Nashville."


	4. A Walk To Remember

**A/N: I'm so glad that this story is hitting the spot with so many people! I do hope this chapter will make you just as happy as the previous three.. :) Have fun now, you crazy kids! Beta read by the wonderful LT!**

-o-o-o-

_"Genius is one per cent inspiration, ninety-nine per cent perspiration._"  
-- Thomas A. Edison (1847 - 1931), Harper's Monthly, 1932

-o-o-o-

**Five hours earlier.**

Reid slowly opened his eyes. The bright light made him wince and turn his head to the side to get away. The pounding and spinning in his head was only outweighed by the nausea sweeping through his body. Focusing his eyes on anything was a task close to impossible, but somehow he managed to make his gaze fall where he wanted it to. What he saw, however, was not something he wanted to see.

Sand.

Sand and rubble.

Shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind. Where in the world was he? The young man pulled himself up onto his hands and knees, fighting the nausea. He finally gave up and sat down, rubbing his eyes. When his sight was eventually clear enough, he looked around.

As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but sand and rocks. And a burning hot sun shining above him in a clear blue sky. Reid glanced around, completely confused.

_How did I get here?_

Sweat dripped off his forehead and down his temples. The heat was merciless, radiating from above as well as from below. He was sitting in a light shadow cast by a medium size rock, but Reid could feel how hot the sand was, even as it was shaded. He dreaded having to walk on the scorching sand, especially as he just noticed that he wasn't wearing shoes or socks.

A quick once over told Reid that he was much less dressed than he'd like to be. The lack of trousers, shoes and socks was bothering him. He was thankfully enough wearing a t-shirt. A t-shirt that didn't belong to him, though.

Once his legs felt secure enough to use, he decided to try standing up. Every move was excruciating. Almost every inch of his uncovered fair skin was no longer fair, but a bright red and the young man more resembled a boiled lobster than a federal agent. The sun had not been good to him.

_How long have I been out here?_

Staggering, Reid rose to his feet. His skin felt like it was two sizes too small for his lanky frame, and he winced in pain. He once again looked around to try to get some sense of direction, but there were no landmarks in sight. Only gravel, sand and rocks. And the sand was burning hot.

_What happened? Why am I out here?_

"Hello?!" he called out into nothing, not really expecting an answer, but still hoping for one. Of course, there was no answer. "Anyone?!" Not even an echo.

Shading his eyes with his palm, he tried to calculate what time it was and which direction was which.

_The sun isn't too high. Must be afternoon. And it's going down over there. So that's west. That doesn't help me much... But… There aren't too many deserts near Quantico. Then where the hell am I?_

He knew he had to move. But to where? The only thing affecting his choice was the fact that he didn't want to walk with the sun in his eyes. The sand under his feet burned like fire as he began his trek – due north – into absolutely nothing.

It took him only a few moments to realize that there was no way he could walk barefoot for a long period of time in a desert full of sand hotter than the fiery pits of hell. Hurrying into a bit of shade from a big rock, he made a hard decision. It was either stay there and die from dehydration and heat stroke, or do his best to escape – whatever the price may be.

Pulling off the t-shirt, he used what little strength he had left in his arms to rip the garment into two pieces, binding them around his feet as makeshift shoes. Hopefully, it would help him get through the desert better. But in doing so, he left his upper body completely unshielded from the merciless sun. It was a risk he would have to take.

Reid tried his new 'shoes' on the scorching sand and found that they were actually working rather satisfactory. He continued his walk through the sizzling landscape in nothing but boxers and his makeshift shoes, sweat running down his face and the sun searing his skin.

All the while, his brain worked overtime trying to figure out where he could possibly be and how in the world he had gotten here. The last thing he could clearly remember was being ambushed in his apartment. After that, everything was a complete blur.

_Someone took me from my apartment and dropped me off in the middle of the desert; a desert somewhere not even close to Quantico? That doesn't even make sense! God, it's warm here… I need water…_

Reid's head began aching terribly after a while. He didn't know when the last time he drank water was, but as he licked his lips he noticed saliva was still being produced in his mouth. So far, he was not in any immediate danger of becoming dehydrated.

_I'm still sweating normally and producing saliva. That means I have most likely have a two to seven percent fluid loss. Not fatal. But I have to find good shelter and water soon, or… At 15 percent there is the chance of muscle spasms, seizures, heart failure and…death. I have to find shelter._

He padded along aimlessly over the sand, hoping desperately to find someplace to shelter himself from the heat.

Hours went by. At least it felt that way to the young agent. He felt himself grow weaker and weaker every step he took over the burning land. Reid hung his head in fatigue, looking up only when he made sure he was heading towards the landmark he'd decided upon following. It was usually a specific rock or hill and once he'd reach it, he'd set up a new one. His mind was still clear enough, but he had a feeling it wouldn't last much longer.

Reid's mouth was growing dryer and dryer and there was hardly any sweat running down his face anymore. His shoulders were burning with pain as they turned redder and redder from the sun, and he felt himself becoming dizzy.

_Ten percent… Maybe 12… Oh God…_

As he raised his head to choose a new land mark, he saw it, just on the horizon. A house.

Reid's entire body jumped with new energy.

_A house! People! Yes!_

He hurried his steps as much as he could without stumbling over his own tired feet. All he could think was that he was finally saved. Someone would help him now; someone would give him water and help him get home.

Just as he reached the house, he tripped and fell into the sand face first. The heat was unbelievable and he jerked up with a yelp, staggering back up onto his feet and into the shadow of the house. Panting, he paused momentarily before wobbling on along the house wall, holding on to it with one hand for balance. His head was giving in.

The front door was only a few steps away. Reid took hold of the railing, dragging his legs up the short stairs and onto the porch. With his final strength, he hurled himself against the door, banging it with all his might.

To his despair, there was no answer.

_No… No, please… You have to be home… You… Have to…_

The young agent slipped down onto the wooden floor, leaning against the door. His breath grew weaker and he finally collapsed, dangerously dehydrated.

--

"Hey, kid."

The voice wasn't familiar to Reid at all. His mind was muddled and his body ached terribly. His eyes refused to focus as he turned his head to the side towards the voice.

"Hey. Good morning. How're you feeling?"

The voice was gentle, yet rugged, but didn't ring a bell with the young agent at all. He tried to talk. "Mmmhuum…"

"Easy, kid. You're in pretty bad shape. Here."

Something cold dripped onto Reid's lips, and he instinctively opened his mouth. Divine liquid drizzled onto his dry tongue and he swallowed greedily, as good as he could. His mouth felt like sand paper.

"Slowly", the voice said. "Gotta take it slowly."

Reid cleared his throat. Finally, there was some moist on his lips and he felt his sight return. Once his eyes had cleared up, he could make out the image of a man in his 40's sitting by his side. He blinked. "Where am I?" he wheezed.

The man smiled. "You're at my house. Found you on my porch about half an hour ago. You look like a boiled lobster, how long have you been out there?"

The young man frowned and closed his eyes. "I don't…know…"

"Hey, it's okay. Your brain fries pretty easily when you're walking the plains in your underwear. You really don't look too good. What's your name? You remember that?"

Reid dry coughed. "Reid… Spencer Reid."

"Well, Spencer Reid, my name is Jacob Hall. I'm gonna get you some more water and then we'll get you to the hospital. I have my car outside." The man got up and disappeared for a moment before returning. "Here you go. Take a few sips."

Placing his hand behind Reid's head, he lifted it slightly, allowing the young man to drink the water more easily.

Reid sucked in the water like there was no tomorrow. Gulp after gulp went down his dry throat and it felt like liquid ambrosia. It took only a few moments once the water had hit his system for his head to clear up a bit further. "Where are we?" he asked in a weak voice.

Jacob gave him a kind smile. "We're at my house, I told you so just a second ago."

"No, I mean…" Reid cleared his throat. "Where is it?"

"You mean what town are we in? We're about 60 miles outside Nashville. Not many people come by here."

"Nashville?!" Reid's head jerked up and he was instantly punished by a lightning bold of white pain flashing through his forehead, and he moaned.

Jacob reached for the bucket beside the bed and took the towel he'd hung over the rim. He drenched it in the water and wrung it out before placing it across Reid's forehead. "Easy."

"Nashville…" Reid mumbled, rather disoriented. "How…?"

"That was gonna be my next question", Jacob asked, a small smile on his lips. "How'd you end up all the way out here – and in your underwear?"

"If I knew, I'd tell you…" Reid coughed and made a move to sit up. His skin burned with every move. "Oh, God…"

"You good? I can carry you to the car." Jacob reached out to support the younger man.

"No, I can… I can…" But he couldn't. Whatever little strength he had gathered ran out as he slumped back onto the bed.

Jacob took his hand. "Drink some more water and we'll get going." He lifted Reid's head once more to give him water, and the young man drank greedily from the glass.

"Do you have a phone?" Reid asked in a raspy voice once he noticed the feeling coming back into his hands and fingers.

"Not a landline, but a cell." Jacob pulled up a phone from his pocket. "Who do you need to call?"

"My boss."

Jacob looked at him quizzically. "I don't think your work is more important than surviving a stroll through the desert."

"No, it's…" Reid cleared his throat. "I work…for the FBI."

With a jerk, Jacob frowned. "FBI? What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?" Before Reid could answer, the older man raised his hands. "Never mind, I have a feeling I don't want to know. You want me to dial?"

Reid nodded, and gave Jacob the number. The older man dialed and held the phone next to Reid's ear. Once the young agent heard the voice of his superior, he felt an enormous amount of relief.

"Hotch", he rasped. "It's Reid." He could hear Hotch call Morgan on the other end of the line, and he knew his entire team was right there. It made him feel even more secure.

"_Are you okay? Where are you?"_

"I'm…okay. I'm in Nashville, I…have no idea…what happened… We're going to the hospital now..." He felt his voice beginning to give in, and Hotch definitely could hear that he was slipping away again.

"_Alright, stay there. We'll be there soon. I'll send someone for you. Stay there!"_

"Okay…" Reid answered somewhat dizzily and heard a quick click at the other end of the line. He looked up at Jacob. "Thank you. They're coming."

"That's good. Now, let's get you to the hospital." Slipping his arms under the sheet, Jacob lifted the young agent clean off the mattress without any greater effort and began carrying him through the house.

Something came to Reid as he was lugged out the door towards the car. "Jacob?"

"Yeah?"

"What day is it?"

"It's Wednesday. How long have you been out here?"

Reid didn't answer. He just stared out into nothing, mouth slightly open and eyes wide with confusion before slipping back to exhausted unconsciousness.

_Wednesday? But that means… Four days… I don't remember the last four days. What happened?_


	5. Burning Zone

**A/N: Phew, a week goes by quickly! I've been ill and not able to update, but now I'm back in action again! Now, let's see if the team finds Reid... Beta read by the lovely LT!**

-o-o-o-

With determined steps, the BAU walked through the doors of Saint Thomas Hospital in Nashville, TN. Hotch had taken the lead, naturally, and the rest of the team followed anxiously. They had no information as to what condition their youngest member was in, or what had actually happened to him. All they knew was that he had been admitted here three hours earlier and taken immediately to the intensive care unit.

The team was worried and confused about the entire situation. It was all so bizarre. One moment they are deep into a frantic search for one of their members, the other moment he calls and tells them where he is. Nothing made sense. They had all agreed that the bag found in Cincinnati had been a complete wild goose chase.

On the plane ride over to Nashville from Connecticut they had been trying to profile whoever took Reid in the first place, and why. After some time of talking and bouncing ideas, they had agreed to wait with forming a complete profile until they had seen what shape the young agent was in. It would perhaps give them a better idea of what motive the UnSub had had for taking him. Plus, Reid could tell them about what happened and it would aid them in their search for the kidnapper.

They reached the ICU reception desk and Hotch planted one of his palms on the counter with a slightly too loud bang, making the nurse behind the desk jerk her head up in surprise.

"Spencer Reid?" Hotch voice was firm and left no room for negotiation.

Nevertheless, the nurse decided it would be a good idea to snap at him. "Family only", she said dismissively and pushed her nose back into the crossword puzzle in her hands.

A second later, something was dangled over her magazine, catching her attention. It was a very official looking identification badge with the letters FBI at the top. The nurse looked up at the man holding the credentials three inches from her face. He looked right back at her with the darkest, sternest eyes she had ever seen.

"This makes us his family."

The nurse cleared her throat as the identification badge was removed from her line of vision. "Room 404. But he's very tired, he needs to rest."

Hotch gave the nurse a single nod before turning away. "Thank you." Taking lead once again, he led his team towards Reid's room; none of them knowing what exactly they would find once they got there.

They slowed down as they reached the door, and Hotch entered first. Setting his jaw, he prepared himself for whatever he would be faced with.

They all stopped a few feet into the hospital room. None of them knew what to say.

Reid lay on the bed, covered by a thin white sheet. Tubes ran in and out of his arms and an oxygen mask was loosely placed over his mouth and nose. His skin was bright red and blistering. There wasn't a sign of life from him except for the beeping of the monitor next to him, showing his heartbeat.

"Oh, God…" Prentiss whispered a bit too loud, but she was unable to contain it.

Hotch approached the bed cautiously. He wanted nothing less than to disturb his youngest subordinate, but the situation did call for at least some sort of response and information about what had happened.

"Reid?" he said in a much gentler voice than usual. "Reid, it's Hotch." He took hold of a chair next to the bed and pulled it closer, sitting down by Reid's side.

The rest of the team stayed where they were, anxiously awaiting the young agent's answer. Morgan pulled the door shut behind him. He didn't know what feeling was appropriate right now. He felt angry, confused, relieved, ecstatic, tired and determined to find whoever did this. His mind was a mishmash of emotions and he decided that right now, all he could do was be happy that they had found their youngest alive and…well.

When there was no response, Hotch placed his hand lightly on Reid's brightly red fingers. "Reid?"

Reid's eyelids flickered for a moment, and then slowly opened. It took a few moments for his eyes to focus, but once they did and his sight fell on his superior by his side, his breath quickened. "Ho-otch…?" he wheezed into the mask. A great wave of relief rolled over him and he finally knew for sure that he was safe.

"How are you feeling?" Hotch voice was pleasantly familiar in Reid's ears.

"I'm…a little…tired…" Reid panted weakly.

"I know. We're gonna let you rest soon." Hotch moved forward a few inches. "Reid, who did this to you?"

The young agent slowly shook his head the best he could. "Don't…remember…"

"That's okay. What _do_ you remember? Can you tell us anything?"

Reid closed his eyes in dismay. "I…don't…" He winced from the pain of frowning. "…anything…"

"It's okay, Reid." Morgan stepped forward towards the bed and into Reid's field of vision. "We'll talk when you feel better. We're not going anywhere."

"You should rest", Prentiss said softly. "You've been through a lot."

Reid nodded weakly. "Sorry…"

"Don't be sorry", Hotch interjected. "We're just glad you're okay. Now you rest, and we'll come back when you're stronger." He rose and nodded to his team to leave. When he and Reid were alone in the room, he turned back to the young agent. "Nothing?"

Reid closed his eyes, sighed deeply and shook his head once again. "Hotch…"

"It's okay. We're right here. Just sleep and we'll take this up once you're well." Without waiting for an answer, Hotch opened the door and left the room. He met up with the rest of his team outside. "Morgan, go get hold of a doctor."

Morgan nodded briefly and stomped off towards the nurses' station to grab hold of someone who could tell them more about Reid's condition.

"God, what happened to him?" Prentiss shook her head and ran her fingers through her fringe. "He looks terrible!"

"He must have been out in the sun for a long time", Rossi said. "Looks like severe sunburn."

"Who would do this to him?" Garcia said anxiously, fiddling with her fingers. She had demanded to come to Nashville when she heard Reid had been found, and had taken a commercial flight on her own expense. She had landed an hour before the rest and had wandered the airport in desperation, waiting for her team to arrive. Now being here, seeing their youngest member in this condition broke her heart. "Why?"

"I don't know", Hotch said with darkness in his voice. "But we'll find out."

"Excuse me?" a voice came from behind them. They turned and came face to face with a man in his 40's, wearing jeans and a checkered shirt. "Are you friends with Spencer?"

"Yes." Hotch scrutinized the man before him. "And you are?"

"My name's Jacob Hall. I found him outside my door a couple of hours ago and took him to the hospital." There was genuine worry in the man's eyes. "They won't tell me how he's doing because I'm not related, I thought you might know."

"We don't know any more than you do, Mr. Hall. Can you tell us what happened around the time you found Dr. Reid?" Hotch was still very suspicious towards this unknown savior, and he wanted answers.

"Well, sure…" Jacob frowned slightly. "You're FBI, right?"

Hotch nodded. "We're members of the BAU. Now, Mr. Hall – what happened?"

"Okay, well. I came home after work in Nashville, and I found Spencer on my porch, passed out and red as a stop light. That poor boy had been walking the plain in his underwear! God knows for how long… I don't understand how he managed to get that badly burnt; the plain is only two miles across. Kid must have wandered in circles."

Jacob paused to scratch his head.

"Anyway, I came home and found him and took him inside. He was out cold for a while, so I put some wet towels and cold compresses on him to chill him off. I called the hospital and asked what I should do and they said to bring him in. Just before I was gonna put him in the pick up, he woke up and was completely out of it. Didn't know where he was or how he got there, or what day it was. He just wanted to call his boss – I assume that's you." Jacob indicated to Hotch and got a short nod in return.

Jacob continued. "And once he'd called you, I brought him in to the hospital and they took him here. I figured I'd stick around to make sure he's okay, but no one's talking to me." He sighed and ran his hand over his receding hairline. "When you find out, will you tell me?"

Hotch gave him another short nod. "Mr. Hall, could you please tell us your whereabouts starting last Friday?"

Jacob frowned. "Why do you wanna know that?"

"It's standard procedure", Rossi interjected. "Dr. Reid was abducted from his home at some point after Friday and you are the first person known to see him after that."

"Oh, man…" Jacob's eyes told a clear tale of shock. "I hope you don't think that I…no!"

"Mr. Hall, if you could just tell us where you were during the time Dr. Reid was missing and let us verify it, there will be no problems."

"Well, yeah… I was working on Friday and when I got off I went with some of the guys to Steve's house to watch a fight on TV. Didn't get home until 2AM or something. Saturday and Sunday me and the guys went on a fishing trip and Monday I was back to work."

"Can your friends and employer verify that?" Hotch looked at Jacob through the eyes of a lie detector.

"Well, sure."

"Good. This is Agent Jareau", he said, motioning JJ to step forward. "She'll be taking the names and numbers to your friends."

JJ stepped out from the group. "We can go right over here, Mr. Hall." She took a few steps towards a set of seats along the wall, and Jacob followed.

Hotch turned back to the rest of his team. "Garcia, go help JJ with the alibis. There might be something you can check online."

"You got it." Garcia hurried over to JJ, pulling her laptop out of her metallic blue oversized shoulder bag.

"We have very little to work with." Rossi shoved his hands into his pockets. "We have to do the best with what we've got."

Hotch eyes had already fallen on Morgan who was quickly approaching them, accompanied by a doctor in a white robe.

"Spencer Reid?" The doctor stopped in front of Hotch. "I'm Dr. Sheldon."

"Agent Hotchner. How is he?"

The doctor flipped the chart in his hands open and eyed it through. "He's suffered severe sunburns on 90 percent of his body. He's also dangerously dehydrated, but we have him on fluids and nutrition IV, so he should be fine."

The entire team simultaneously exhaled silently in relief.

"The sunburns are going to take some time to heal and he's been scheduled for a skin biopsy in four months from now."

"Skin biopsy?" Prentiss frowned.

"With sunburns this severe, the risk developing of malign melanoma is 46 percent higher than with usual sunburns."

"Skin cancer?"

"Unfortunately, yes. On the bright side, his kidneys are in full working condition. When dehydrated this badly, one is at risk of kidney failure, but your friend has managed to escape that."

"Thank god…" Prentiss breathed.

"Dr. Sheldon", Hotch interjected. "Dr. Reid was taken from his home last Friday. Are there any signs of physical trauma not caused by the sun or dehydration?"

Dr. Sheldon once again flipped through the chart. "A few scrapes on the knees, but other than that – no. However, he did have two bright red marks on the back of his neck that we haven't been able to determine the source of yet, but that's about it."

Hotch frowned. What had been the objective of taking the young agent from his home only to drop him off in the middle of Tennessee, hundreds of miles away from home, with no physical trauma at all?

"I have other patients, so you'll have to excuse me, Agent Hotchner."

"Yes, thank you, Dr. Sheldon."

The doctor turned to walk away, but stopped after only a few steps. "Oh, I almost forgot."

Hotch's head snapped up.

"Dr. Reid's tox-screen came up positive for pipecuronium."

"Pipecuronium? What's that?" Hotch frowned deeply.

"It's basically a preparatory drug given along with anesthesia to induce muscle paralysis. It's a neuromuscular blocking agent. How that got into his system is beyond me, it's not exactly an over-the-counter drug. And I'm guessing he hasn't had any surgery in the last days, since we found no recent scars or procedural traces."

"Who has access to that drug?" Hotch instantly inquired.

"Only licensed anesthesiologists", Dr. Sheldon replied with a quizzical look on his face. "He's not…?"

"No, he's not a medical doctor. Thank you, Dr. Sheldon."

"I don't know what happened to Dr. Reid since he was abducted, Agent Hotchner", the doctor said. "But if someone injected him with this drug, and didn't put him under anesthesia, whatever was done to him, he would be able to feel everything."

"What?"

"Pipecuronium is only a muscle relaxant. Dr. Reid would have been awake and completely unable to move, but fully aware of anything going on around him. He would not have been able to defend himself."

Hotch felt his insides turn, but he bit it back. "Thank you. You've been a great help."

The doctor nodded and walked off to his next patient.

"I don't like the sound of this at all", Rossi mumbled.

"You and me both", Morgan concurred.

"He doesn't remember anything about what happened. Maybe his mind will clear up once he gets some fluid back in his system?" Prentiss wanted to stay hopeful, even though something inside her told her very firmly that she was wrong.

"Don't count on it", Hotch muttered under his breath.

"Hey, guys." JJ walked up to the group. "Hall's alibis checks out, down to the store where they rented a boat and bought bait for fishing."

"Well, that's one less road to go down." Rossi sighed and placed his hands on his hips. "That leaves us with…none."

Hotch pulled up his phone. "We'll figure it out. Somehow. Prentiss, go tell Hall that Reid's okay, he seemed genuinely concerned. I'll make reservations at that hotel we passed on the way here. We're not leaving without Reid."

As Hotch walked away towards the exit, his mind was spinning. So many questions and so little answers. There were no witnesses, no leads, no clues and no apparent motive. For once, the experienced profiler was at a loss.

All he knew was that first thing in the morning, his team would sit down and go over every known detail of the case and try to piece together a profile. But right now, they all needed to sleep.


	6. You Must Remember This

**A/N: I know, sorry, sorry. It's been ages. Summer's been rough. But I promise this story will not become another Liar that lasts over 6 months. I tried to make this chapter into a bit of a reward for those who actually are bearing with me on this :) Big thank you to LT who beta read despite her busy schedule at work!**

-o-o-o-

"Stop eating my Jell-O, Morgan!"

Morgan snickered shortly and put the small plate back on the tray. "Alright, alright. Chill." He raised his hands in surrender and demonstratively pushed his chair slightly backwards. He didn't mind giving up the Jell-O, even though it was the cherry flavored red one – his favorite. Reid needed every bit of nutrients he could get, even though Jell-O was basically just gelatin and water.

Reid reached strenuously towards the little plate and got a hold of the wobbly goodness. "You always eat my Jell-O", he said with a smile. "You wait until I fall asleep and then you scarf it down before I wake up."

Morgan laughed. "Don't you think you're getting a little old for Jell-O, kid?"

With a breathy laugh, Reid sucked in the remainder of the red, jiggly square into his mouth and devoured it. "Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?" he said between chewing and swallowing.

"Hey, I'm a man in my prime." Morgan straightened his back and pretended to brush dirt off a make believe dress shirt.

"Who still eats Jell-O", Reid filled in with a smile. He handed the empty plate to Morgan who placed it on the tray.

"And you didn't even save me a bite", Morgan said as he eyed the plate.

"You ate half of it while I slept!"

"Picky." Morgan gave Reid a huge brotherly grin. He was happy to see his young colleague awake and coherent again after his ordeal.

It had been five days since the team had arrived at the Saint Thomas Hospital in Nashville and found their missing team member lying on a hospital bed in very poor condition. After having talked to the doctor and questioning Jacob Hall, the profilers had decided to get a good night's sleep before continuing their work. Morgan had refused to leave the hospital and demanded to stay in Reid's room over night until the rest of the team returned. Despite the doctor's reassurance that Reid's condition would not rapidly deteriorate during the night, Morgan had been adamant and eventually had gotten his way. He had spent the night in a very hard chair next to Reid's bed.

During the following days, the BAU had worked on a profile for whoever had kidnapped and possibly tortured their youngest member. Garcia had been glued to her screen, trying to find a shred of evidence or a trail to go on, but had not unexpectedly come up empty handed.

For the first two days, Reid had not been in any condition to communicate properly due to his severe dehydration and sunburn, but by the third day after the team had arrived, the young doctor had been able to sit up and eat on his own, as well as talking clearly. By now, he had even been up and walking himself to the bathroom and taking short walks up and down the hallway outside his room. Every step hurt as the young agent forced his legs to move, and his skin would feel like it had been tumble dried when the label clearly said 'dry clean only'.

But today was the day. Reid was getting discharged from the hospital and would be allowed to go back home to Virginia together with his team. He wouldn't be back on the clock for at least two more weeks, but at least he would be in his own apartment with his own things and not wrapped in stinky hospital linen and lying on that plywood board they called a mattress. He was finally going home.

"You feeling good about getting out of here, kid?" It was as if Morgan had read his mind.

Reid nodded with a smile. "Yeah. I feel like an animal in a cage here. Every half an hour someone comes in here and wants to check something, be it blood pressure or oxygen level or god knows what. I can't wait to come home and have a full night's sleep without someone sneaking in to change my catheter bag. Uhm…" As he uttered the last words, his face turned a bright red and he averted his eyes. That wasn't really the information he had planned to pass on to his older colleague.

Morgan laughed. "Yeah, I can see how that's annoying."

They got no further in their discussion before there was a tap on the door, and before they could answer it, it was opened. Hotch and Prentiss walked into the room.

"Hey, Reid", Prentiss said with a smile as she approached the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Better", Reid said and nodded. "Thank you."

"Looks like we're taking you home today", Hotch said, cracking a ghost of a smile. He was relieved that his youngest subordinate was in working condition again.

"Yeah, I can't wait." Reid shifted on the bed with a wince. "This bed is beginning to wear on my last nerve."

"Well, hospital beds aren't designed to be comfortable", Prentice said, leaning on the bottom frame of the bed.

"So I've noticed."

"I'll go talk to the doctor and see when we can get you out of here", Morgan said, rising from his seat. "You hang tight there, kid – we'll have you out of that bed in no time."

"Sounds good." Reid smiled up at his colleague who had barely left his side during his stay at the hospital. He watched the older man walk out the door and heard it slam shut behind him, and then turned to his other colleagues. "Did you find anything?"

Hotch shook his head dejectedly. "Nothing." He took a few steps towards the bed and sat down on the chair next to his subordinate. "You still don't remember anything?"

Reid silently cursed his own brilliant mind for not being able to recall the events of the four days he had been missing.

_For a genius, you're not very smart_, he thought to himself.

"No", Reid said tiredly with a frown. "I don't understand why I can't remember." He was getting frustrated. He had spent every waken moment since he came back to his senses, trying to remember what had happened. He had come up empty handed every time. Nothing would jog his memory.

"Don't kick yourself about it, Reid", Prentiss said caringly. "It's not your fault. It will come to you."

"When?" he questioned, looking pleadingly at Prentiss. "When will it come to me? I can't go around knowing that _something _happened, but now knowing _what_. I need to know."

"I understand, Reid", Hotch said, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder. Gently, not to hurt the still remaining sunburn. It was healing, but not painless.

"Maybe…" Reid mused, slightly excited. "I've been thinking. Hypnosis helped me remember once; maybe it can help me again?" He had been pondering visiting a hypnotist ever since he realized that four days were missing from his memory. Not too long ago, it had helped him remember disturbing events from his childhood. It shouldn't be considered impossible that it would help again.

"We could try", Hotch said, also remembering the occurrence in Las Vegas. "But those were repressed memories. We don't know if this is a chemically induced amnesia or not, and if it is, the hypnosis might not work."

"I'm willing to take that chance." Reid nodded at his superior.

"We'll take care of it when we get back to Virginia." Prentiss took a magazine from the cart beside the bed and eyed it. "Uh, Reid..?"

"Yeah?"

Prentiss held up the magazine. "Modern Bride?"

Reid blushed. "It was all that was left!" he blurted. "I read all the other magazines they had on the morning cart and that was…that…"

Prentiss snickered. "Sure…"

Suddenly, there was a light tap on the door, and a pretty face peeked in. "Sorry to disturb you guys, but it's time for Spencer's bath." The nurse smiled and waved at the young man in the bed.

"Just give us a couple of minutes, Alex. Okay?" Reid smiled back.

"Sure." The door closed with a click.

"Sponge baths, my goodness…" Prentiss, hitched her eyebrows and blinked at her young co-worker, who once again blushed.

"It's, uh…yeah." Reid pressed his lips together in a tight smile. "One of the few good things about being confined to a hospital."

Hotch and Prentiss looked at each other briefly and smiled. Hotch rose from the chair and walked towards the door. "We'll be waiting out here until we can take you home." Opening the door, he stepped out and Prentiss followed, but she stopped half way through the door.

"No need to rush the bath, though", she said, grinning. "Take your time."

Reid blushed for the 40th time that day. "Thanks."

"I'll send Alex in. Enjoy…" With a wink, she slid the door shut, waved a 'go ahead' to Alex the nurse and then joined Hotch and Morgan outside. "We should go have some coffee, this is gonna be a while."

"How long can a sponge bath take?" Hotch wondered.

"Did you see the nurse?" Prentiss questioned. "This could take a very long time."

"You can't be serious." Morgan crossed his arms over his chest, a partially shocked look on his face. "Reid?"

Prentiss shook his head. "Morgan, Morgan, Morgan…" She placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him towards the corridor leading to the cafeteria. "There are things concerning Spencer Reid that you just don't know about."

"That I don't _need_ to know about", Morgan corrected.

"Let's just have coffee and leave Reid out of the conversation for now", Hotch suggested. But he couldn't help smirking when none of his subordinates saw it.

-o-o-o-

Reid sat on the small stool in the shower. Luke warm water streamed down his back and a soft towel was rubbed over his skin with extreme care. It wasn't a traditional sponge bath since he was able to get into the shower, but it was very soothing nevertheless. The towel was gently circled over his back, neck and arms, and Reid couldn't help himself. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling. It was the only time he could let his mind wander away from the situation, and he was able to relax.

The slow circling of the wet towel continued over his shoulders and down his chest. The water was cooler now, but as it flowed down his naked skin, he felt relieved. His skin didn't feel as tight as it did when it was dry.

A drop of water ran from his brow and down his face, dripping off his chin.

The circling of the towel slowed down as it reached the bottom edge of his stomach. Slow, careful strokes with the cloth sent pleasant shivers down the young agent's spine, and a small smile formed on his lips. "Mmm…"

"Is that nice?"

"Yes."

Reid couldn't comprehend how his body could respond in this manner at a time like this. But it did.

The wet towel continued its journey down both his thighs and legs and before Reid knew it, the water was shut off and he was thrown back into the real world. He suddenly felt very exposed.

It was as if Nurse Alex had read his mind, and wrapped a warm towel around his wet body. "Come on, Spencer. Let's go back to the bed and I'll dry you off, and then I can put some cooling balm on you. Would you like that?"

Reid nodded, making his wet bangs bounce. "Yeah, I'd like that."

He let Alex help him back to the bed and sat still as the young nurse patted him dry with the towel. With some extra assistance, he was able to step into a pair of boxers and then sat back down on the bed.

The cooling balm was a gift sent from heaven. He didn't really need it as badly now as he had when he first woke up and his skin was in turmoil, but it was still a very satisfying feeling having it rubbed all over his aching body. Usually, Reid would be partially opposed to physical touch of this kind, or any kind, but right now he really needed the attention. At least his skin needed it.

"I'm not gonna put the IV back in", Alex said, rubbing the balm over Reid's back. "I heard you're going home today."

"Yeah." Reid smiled at the thought of finally returning to his own apartment.

"I'll miss you." Alex smiled behind Reid's back. "You're one of the nicest patients I've ever cared for."

And Reid blushed. "Thank you."

Alex continued rubbing the lotion over Reid's body in silence.

The young agent once again let his mind wander, and naturally it wandered straight back to the Nashville plain he had woke up in five days earlier. He still couldn't figure out how he had ended up there. The last thing he remembered was checking the apartment for burglars but coming up empty handed. After that he drew a complete four day blank.

Why had he been taken from his home, and by who? What had happened? The questions spun around in Reid's confused mind and he tried to straighten out everything – and failed. With a sigh, he felt the covers being drawn over his legs.

"All done. I'll send your friends in now."

"Thank you." As the young nurse opened the door to leave, Reid's head snapped up. "Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll miss you too."

Alex smiled and closed the door. Reid was alone again. Alone with his thoughts.

He couldn't wait to get home. Not only to crawl into his own bed, but also to get a hold of a hypnotist, who could possibly help him remember what happened during his kidnapping. And also find a good lock smith to change the locks on his door and install a burglar alarm. He didn't want any more uninvited visitors.

Reid could hear Hotch's and Morgan's voices outside the door, and he was drawn back into reality.

He would be home again soon.

Home sweet home.


	7. Live Once, Die Twice

**A/N: Humptidum... It's been a while, hasn't it? Let's just say summer was much more activating than I thought it would be, and Daphne (my muse) didn't really feel like staying inside my body. But here's another chapter for all you lovely people who are sticking with me :)**

**And SPOILER alert for episodes 6 and 7 of season 4 (In Memoriam and The Instincts)!!  
**

**First, a short recap since it's been a while:**

_-- After coming back to his apartment one night, Reid is abducted by an unknown man, who throws off the search by packing a bag with Reid's clothes while abducting him, making it look like the young agent just took off. The bag is found in Cincinnati, and the team is hot on the trail. However, a phone call from an exhausted Reid in Nashville throws them all off base. Having wandered a plain outside Nashville for several hours, Reid is found and taken to the hospital where his team joins him later. Severe sunburns and dehydration keeps Reid in the hospital for days, and it is discovered that he has no recollection of the four days he has been missing. Now let's rejoin our heroes. --_

-o-o-o-

There was no comparison between coffee squirted from a vending machine, and coffee made in one's own maker at home. Reid smiled blissfully as he raised the huge blue cup to his lips with both hands and took the first sip of hot, bitter, wonderful man-made nectar. The coffee in the Saint Thomas Hospital, Nashville more resembled dishwater mixed with mud than real, aromatic coffee. _This_ was coffee_._

Closing his eyes, he drew a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders. Strangely enough, it wasn't as difficult as it had been lately. After his team had brought him back from Nashville, it took him a few days to be able to even sleep soundly in his own bed. No wonder, since that was the place where this entire covert nightmare had started.

The first thing that had been done upon Reid's return to his apartment was that Morgan called a lock smith to replace the lock on the door with something a bit more up to date. Completing the procedure with an extra seven-lever-lock and a strong door chain, Reid finally felt safe in his own domains again. Leaning on his elbows on the oak dinner table, he sighed.

He had been trying to push the thoughts about this day away from his mind, but somehow they kept pouring back in. Today was the day Morgan was going to pick him up at 11AM and take him to Dr. Alphonse Terwayne, specialist in the subject of the subconscious mind and its workings. Also a licensed hypnotherapist. Today was the day he was possibly going to find out what happened to him during his missing four days.

Reid couldn't hide the fact from himself that he was anxious about exploring the events of the days he had been missing. What if there were things he'd rather not find out? Like last time… In any case, this was something he needed to do. He needed to know.

The coffee was divine, but it couldn't stop his heart from beating just a little bit too fast. Looking at the clock, he found that it was just a few minutes to eleven and Morgan would be there at any time to pick him up. Reid took a deep gulp of java and set the cup down on the table. Hot and sweet, just the way he liked it.

The knock on the door told him that his colleague had arrived. There was no escaping it now. Rising from the table, Reid was relieved that the searing pain all over his body had subsided since leaving the hospital. The burns had healed rather nicely thanks to cooling balms and lotions galore he had been prescribed. His skin had almost completely gone back to its old pasty self.

It took him only a few moments to make his way from the kitchen to the front door, but twice the time as usual to get all the locks open. It was time he was more than willing to spend not to have any more uninvited guests. As he opened the door, Morgan stood leaning against the wall outside, looking at his younger colleague with a smirk.

"Hey kid. Ready to roll?"

"Yeah, just give me a moment. I have to get my bag." He was still on sick leave a week after returning from Nashville, but was coming back to work on the following Monday. Today was Thursday. Reid grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder as he exited his apartment.

"Let's go", he said with a stoic look on his face. His insides were in turmoil.

-o-o-o-

"All you will hear is my voice."

The voice was deep and soothing.

"Do you understand?"

Reid nodded as he lay fully relaxed on the leather couch, eyes closed and hands folded over his stomach. "Yes", he mumbled.

"Good. Now. I want you to think back to the day you returned to your apartment; the night you were taken from your home."

Reid's mind wandered back to him walking through the door and eventually falling asleep on the couch. The crash. The search of the apartment. The man attacking him from behind. Then it all went black.

"I want you to tell me what the first thing you remember is when you wake up. What do you see?"

Reid's eyes moved rapidly behind his closed eye lids. He was slowly remembering. "I see…light."

"That's good. Look closer at the light. Is there anything else there? Figures, movement, anything?"

A small frown formed on Reid's brow as he pressed his lips together. "I can't see."

"Look closer. Look around. Tell me what you see. Don't be scared, I'm right here. Tell me what you see."

Reid turned his head to his right. Then to his left. Then he opened his eyes.

_The room around him is barren and sterile. Metal walls and bright lights glare at him from all angles. As he tries to move, he finds that he can't even lift a finger. All he can move is his eyes. Trying to swallow, he realizes that's impossible as well, as there's a tube in his mouth and all the way down his throat as far as he can tell. The sharp objects digging into his eye sockets are out of his field of vision, but seem to be keeping his eyes wide open. Fear quickly creeps up inside him._

"Easy, Spencer. I'm right here. Tell me more."

_He can hear voices from somewhere in the room. The slight echo they cause is eerie and metallic as the dull voices bounce around the room, which seems to be much larger than he can see._

_The chair, in which he's sitting, feels like a dentist chair, partially leaned back but as far as he can tell there are no bounds or restrictions. Realistically, they would fill no purpose as he's completely immobile for some reason. More fear._

"Calm down, Spencer. You are not there now, you are simply watching. You are simply a spectator."

_He can't make out the words the voices are saying, they are too muffled. He can see hands, but no faces. Suddenly, something is placed over his head, like a tight fitting helmet. He tries to move, scream, fight and run, but there's not a muscle in his body responding to his desperate urges. The tight helmet gives off a sharp, beeping tone – seemingly never ending. He wants to scream for help, but not a sound escapes his lips._

"Feel my hand in yours, Spencer. You are safe. Move yourself further away and tell me more."

_The piercing beep tearing his ears to shreds is relentless, and suddenly something is placed before his eyes, and the world turns black. Seconds later, images flash before him, colorful images of all shapes and sizes, all the while his ears are being massacred by the noise. The images switch constantly, and he can hardly make out the motives, only that they are all extremely colorful. Only seconds pass by, before his mind is completely muddled and his senses severely dimmed._

_Sharp pain shoots into his neck, making his body vibrate. His jaw clenches involuntarily. The pain ceases, and then comes back in regular intervals, with escalating intensity. He can't… He can't…think…_

"It's okay, Spencer. You don't have to remember this. Let's move forward a bit. Tell me what happens after you are released from the chair."

Reid drew a deep, semi-conscious breath. "I… I'm in a car. It's moving. I'm sitting in the back seat."

"Are you hurt?"

"No. I'm just sitting there, not thinking about anything at all."

"Do you see anything outside the window?"

Reid nodded. "Yes, houses. Apartment buildings. The car stopped."

"Are you getting out?"

"Yes. I'm opening the door and stepping out, and the car takes off."

"Look around. Where are you?"

Reid furrowed his brow. "I'm outside one of the apartment buildings. I'm walking up the stairs. It's not my place. I don't know this street at all, I've never been here."

"That's okay, Spencer. You're doing very well. What happens now?"

"I'm walking up the stairs and punching in a code to open the door. How do I know that code? I've never been here."

"We'll get to that. You're entering the building?"

"Yes. I'm walking up the stairs to the next floor. I can't feel anything. I mean, I'm almost catatonic, but I'm moving. It's like I'm in a dream. There's a door straight ahead, and I'm heading towards it. I knock."

"Does someone open?"

Reid turned his head to his side, baring his teeth momentarily. "I can't see his face."

"That's okay. Do you talk to him?"

"No. I pass him in the door and walk into his apartment. Into the kitchen. He follows me."

The strained look on Reid's face was suddenly replaced by one of fear. "I-I'm… I'm reaching for the knife block. Oh, God, what am I doing? I'm taking out a knife, a big kitchen knife." His breathing sped up and turned shallow as the muscles of his legs began tensing and lifting his knees. "No…no…"

"What's happening, Spencer?"

"He's talking, but I can't hear what he's saying, and he's coming at me. Oh, God…the knife! No!"

He was suddenly twisting on the sofa, trying to push the horrid memories away, and he was screaming. "No! Oh, God…!" A tear crept out from the corner of his eye.

"Okay, Spencer, come back to me. Come back. You're right here and you're safe. Come back to me and Derek."

With a sharp jerk, Reid opened his eyes, and he was bathing in sweat. Panting heavily, he hastily pulled himself up into a sitting position and leaned his face in his palms. "God…"

"What happened in there, kid?" Morgan wondered, worryingly resting a hand on his younger colleague's shoulder. The last time he had seen Reid even close to this distraught was when he was having nightmares about seeing his father killing a small child.

"Remember, Spencer", Dr. Terwayne said soothingly, "what you see during hypnosis is not necessarily direct depiction of what really happened. Perhaps you misinterpreted what you saw?"

Reid looked up, shock in his eyes. "How can I misinterpret me plunging a steak knife into another man's chest?!" He let his head drop again and ran his fingers through his hair. "What have I done?!"

Morgan's heart skipped a beat. Staring at the young agent, he rested his chin on his hand while leaning forward. "Reid, you couldn't have done that."

"According to my brain I did", the young man mumbled. "God…"

"Your brain is one of the most complex ones in the world, kid. No one's gonna look down on you if it malfunctions a bit from time to time."

"No. No, this happened. I can feel it. It's real."

"Reid, remember last time you were put under hypnosis. You saw things that showed you one thing, but in reality it was completely different."

"I couldn't have misinterpreted this! I was standing there with the knife in my hand! Morgan, I killed someone and I didn't even remember it!" Reid slammed his palms down on the leather seat beneath him, and stood up, beginning to pace the room. "What am I gonna do?"

Morgan drew a deep breath. "I don't know. But we need to talk to Hotch. If what you saw really happened, we need to look into it." He rose from his seat next to the couch and reached out a hand towards Dr. Terwayne. "Thank you, Doctor. You've been a great help."

"I'm glad to be of service. Agent Morgan, make sure Spencer takes it easy for a while now", he said in a hushed voice. "My experience tells me that he will be very fragile for a few days. I trust that what came out during this session will be handled internally by you and your peers?"

Morgan nodded. "Yeah, we'll take care of it. Thank you for everything." He turned to Reid who was walking slowly around the room, trying to get his bearings straight. "Hey kid."

Reid turned back to the two men and raised his hand in a waving gesture. "Thank you, Dr. Terwayne."

"You are welcome, Spencer. Take care of yourself now, and I hope that it all works out for you."

As the two agents left the doctor's office, Morgan tried to make Reid talk to him about what had happened, but Reid's mind was otherwise occupied.

_I killed someone. I killed him. There was blood on my hands and in my face, and everywhere on the floor. It happened; I can feel it in every fiber of my being. I remember now. I remember everything. Almost everything._

_Who was he? Who did I kill?_


	8. Where is My Mind?

**A/N: Hi all, and thank you for your lovely reviews! I'm sorry not having answered several of them, but apparently the review reply function and me haven't been getting along for a while. But it seems to have worked itself out by now, so no worries. Here we go, another chapter! Have fun!  
**

-o-o-o-

"_Demand me nothing. What you know, you know.  
From this time forth I never will speak word."_

-- Iago, Shakespeare's _Othello_.

-o-o-o-

"_Garcia, are you sure?"_ The voice coming through her headphones was very familiar, and as usual there were no pleasant images flashing over her computer screens. Blood, distorted faces and police reports overlapped each other, and Garcia took a firmer grip on her glittery troll-headed pencil.

"Nothing, nada, zilch. I mean, I have about six dozed murder cases, all varying in ickyness and horror, but only 19 stab victims and out of those seven were domestic disputes, five have been solved already and out of the remaining seven, four were women, and none of the other three took place in the manner you described." Garcia spoke in her usual quick paced tone as she spouted the facts about the mindless rampage flickering over her screen.

"_Okay, thanks baby girl."_ Morgan sounded genuinely relieved, and Garcia could almost _hear _the smile on his lips.

"Not a problem. Let me know if there is anything else you need."

Hanging up the phone, Garcia took off the headphones and placed them on the table before her. Leaning back into the chair, she thought about what Morgan had just told her about Reid's experience at the hypnotherapist. All he had told her, really, was that what Reid had seen while being under, was that he killed someone. Then he had described the event to her and asked her to check if anything like that had occurred during the days Reid had been missing. She had checked all surrounding states, Tennessee and Connecticut, and had found nothing at all that matched what Reid thought he had experienced.

Shaking her head, Garcia reached for her diet Coke. After taking a few sips, she leaned back over her keyboard. Since there was currently no case on their table, she decided to read up a bit on hypnosis.

_Couldn't hurt to know what we're dealing with here._

-o-o-o-

Morgan clicked his phone closed and slipped it into his pocket with a relieved look on his face. "She can't find anything, Reid."

Reid shook his head slowly. "No. I know it happened."

There was a moment of silence before Morgan spoke again. "There's no evidence that whatever you remembered under hypnosis really took place, it could just be an implanted memory. To mess with your mind."

They sat in the unmoving car, none of them ready to go anywhere. So many questions remained, but the answers were incredibly limited. Morgan held his hands on the steering wheel and Reid sat by his side in the passenger's seat, looking at his hands.

"I could feel it, Morgan", he mumbled. "I could feel the blade go into his body. You can't place that feeling into someone's head."

"Maybe they…"

"_They_? Who are _they_?" Reid interrupted. "Who are _they_ and why did they take me? Was there a reason or am I just a victim of the April fool's joke from hell?"

Silence fell once again when they both realized that there was no answer for any of the questions Reid had just asked. There was simply a black hole of nothingness.

"I'll take you home."

With an inward sigh, Morgan started the car and put it into gear. Driving away from the doctor's office, the same thought spun in both men's heads.

They might never find out what really happened during those four days.

-o-o-o-

**2 weeks later**

Prentiss entered the bullpen, carrying a stack of files in her hands. It was a good way to occupy herself during the weekends when they were not away on any case. Catching up on backed up paper work always made her feel better about herself. But there was not a case file in the world that would make her skip her _Desperate Housewives_ marathon which had become a tradition for her every time they actually had more than one day off. Those five hours were sacred, and woe the person trying to interrupt her if someone wasn't dead or dying.

Dropping the stack of papers on her desk, Prentiss sat down with a sigh of relief. A quick glance over the bullpen told her that Morgan and Reid were by their desks and she could see Rossi moving around in his office through the half closed blinds. Hotch's door was closed, but Prentiss knew that her superior had most likely been there before everyone else this morning – if he had even left last night.

She took a fresh folder and started organizing some papers on the table. Thankfully, it seemed to be a calm Monday morning. Maybe crime _did_ take time off every now and then after all. Another quick glance over the area told her that Reid was looking rather well today. After his abduction, he hadn't appeared well for weeks, but the last couple of days he had been looking more together; healthier. Hadn't he even put on a little weight? _It couldn't do any harm_, Prentiss thought with a slight smirk, and returned to her file.

Reid let his eyes fly over the paper in his hands. He hated catching up on his paper work. Sometimes he wished that he could write as fast as he read, but the shorthand he knew wasn't quick enough to keep up with his brain, and he would just end up writing gibberish that not even he could interpret.

His mind inevitably started wandering away from the loathed paper work. It wandered back to Nashville, to the moment he woke up in the desert. Lately, the young agent had been having flashbacks, remembering fragments of random moments during his time in captivity. He couldn't see any faces or hear any voices, but he could sense them; almost feel them.

Once again, the moment he had woken up in the desert flickered through his mind. Closing his eyes, he let the images come. He welcomed them now. Maybe there would be something there that he could interpret.

_I slowly open my eyes. The bright light makes me wince and turn my head to the side to get away. The pounding and spinning in my head is only outweighed by the nausea sweeping through my body. Focusing my eyes on anything is a task close to impossible, but somehow I manage to make my gaze fall where I wanted it to. But what am I really seeing?_

_Sand._

_And something else. What is that? Who is that? There's a man standing there. I can see him; he's standing right over there. Why aren't I calling out? I couldn't see him before, why can I see him now? I can see his face… I can see it! Where have I seen it before?_

_Oh, God…_

_I know who it is._

Reid's eyes snapped open and a small gasp escaped him through his widely parted lips. Feeling his heart quicken in his chest, the young agent almost threw the file on the table and fumbled after his bag. He knew, he knew, he finally knew! He had to go to Hotch, right now.

Papers scattered over the floor as he accidently tipped over his in-basket in an attempt to grab his PDA from his bag. Morgan rose.

"Whoa, hey kid – what's going on?" Taking a few steps towards the younger agent, Morgan could see the excitement in Reid's eyes. But it was mixed with something else that the older man couldn't quite interpret. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine", Reid blurted. "I just have to talk to Hotch."

"Did something happen?" The concern in Morgan's voice was obvious, but Reid was not yet ready to talk to his team member about what he had remembered. He needed to talk to his superior first of all.

"No. Well, yes. I'll tell you soon." On long, swift legs the young agent hurried up the stairs towards his superior's door. Half way there, his phone rang and while still moving, he answered.

"Reid."

"_Hello, Dr. Reid."_ The voice on the other end of the line was eerily familiar.

"Who is this?" Reid frowned while closing in on Hotch's office.

"_I just called to tell you something."_

"Who is this?" Reid repeated.

"_I follow him to serve my turn upon him."_

Reid stopped short in his tracks. His entire body froze and his eyes fixed on the wall far ahead of him. He didn't utter a word, but simply stood there, phone still by his ear, completely still.

"_You know what to do",_ the voice chimed, and a soft click was heard on the other end of the line.

Reid gave a short nod to no one in particular and mechanically folded his phone and shoved it into his pocket. He took the few more steps towards Hotch's door and knocked it.

"Come in", came the dark, familiar voice from inside.

Reid opened the door in one move and stepped inside, eyes focused on Hotch. "I'm taking the rest of the day off", he said in a steady voice. "I have some personal business to tend to."

Hotch frowned. "Did something happen?"

"No. I will be back tomorrow."

With a somewhat skeptical expression on his face, Hotch leaned over the desk. "Alright. But Reid, if something is happening, you need to tell us."

"I know. I'll see you later." With that, the young agent turned on his heel and stepped back out, closing the door behind him. His steps weren't as quick as he returned to the bullpen and proceeded to pick up his messenger bag.

Morgan approached him from the side. "Can I know what's going on now?"

"It's nothing", Reid said pulling the bag over his head. "I just have to take the rest of the day off."

"How come? Is something wrong?"

"No, everything is fine. I'll see you tomorrow." Once again, Reid turned on his heel and left, ignoring Morgan's short call from behind.

Morgan watched his young colleague exit through the double glass doors. The steps Reid took now were nothing like the ones he had been taking when first flying up the steps towards Hotch's office. What had happened in that short period of time to make his demeanor change so radically?

He took the steps two at the time on his way up to Hotch's office. A short knock on the door later he stood in front of his superior's desk. "What's with Reid?"

Hotch looked up from his files. "He said he needed the day off for personal business."

"Something's not right, Hotch", Morgan said. "You should have seen him out there just a few moments ago; he looked like he was going to explode when he ran up here. Then he comes out like there's nothing going on in the world."

"Maybe he just calmed down."

"Come on, Hotch. Reid's not that good of an actor."

Hotch leaned over slightly. "Morgan, whatever's going on with Reid, it's none of our business. If he needs a personal day, he can take it. He's been through a lot."

Morgan nodded shortly. He knew Hotch was right. But he just couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

-o-o-o-

Reid sat in his car with the engine off. Darkness was slowly falling around him. The parking lot outside the mall was practically deserted, apart from the maintenance crews who were arriving to clean up whatever mess had been left inside the galleria during the day. Stars were beginning to appear in the sky and the moon slowly rose from behind the tree tops. Reid sat there, looking out into the darkness around him, hands on the steering wheel.

Suddenly, his phone rang in his shirt pocket. The young agent slowly took it out and looked at the caller ID. Flipping it open, he put it to his ear.

"_It's high time",_ a voice spoke through the receiver, and then there was simply a click on the other end of the line.

Sliding the phone back into his pocket, Reid released himself from the seat belt and stepped out of the car. Less than five seconds later, a car drove up beside him. He gingerly opened the back seat door and stepped in, closing the door behind him, and instantly the car started moving.

Silence reigned in the vehicle as it moved through the city, passing diners and all-night mini marts, streetwalkers and the officers arresting them.

The car finally stopped in front of a building. Not a word was spoken as Reid opened the door and exited the car. The moment he closed the door behind him, the car sped off. Turning towards the building, Reid walked up the short stairs and punched in a four digit code to the front door. The little metal plate gave a buzzing sound and a tell tale click revealed that the door was opened. Reid stepped inside.

One flight of stairs later, he was heading down a hallway with doors on both sides. He finally stopped in front of a door and knocked on it firmly.

Moments later, the door slid open.


	9. Sticks and Stones

**A/N: Short and sweet, ladies - but I have a feeling you'll like it... Enjoy, my pretties! Beta read by the lovely LT :)**

-o-o-o-

_"The pain of the mind is worse than the pain of the body"_  
-- Publilius Syrus (Roman author, 1st century B.C.)

-o-o-o-

Hotch sat on the couch, leaning over the living room table which was covered with files and pictures. Like every evening, he sat there, looking at them, and tried to pinpoint the moment where his life had ultimately gone down the toilet. He knew every word in the files by now, but he still kept them fanned out in front of him, hoping that some miniscule detail would jump out and tell him everything he needed to know. Months had gone by and there still had been no such luck.

The knock on his door took him by surprise. Getting late night uninvited visitors was nothing he was interested in. He left the couch, taking his Glock from the kitchen table. Holding it tightly in his hand, the superior peered through the peep hole in the door.

Frowning, he took a step back and placed the gun on the hallway table. The three separate locks on the door took a few moments to open, but the door finally slid up.

"Reid? What are you doing here?"

The lanky young agent didn't answer his superior but simply looked at the floor before him.

"Did something happen?" Hotch began to feel concern for his subordinate. He had been through so much the last couple of weeks, maybe it finally had become too much for him. "Come in."

Reid shuffled through the door and into the apartment. Not a single word was uttered between the two men for a few moments while Hotch re-locked the door and followed his younger colleague into the room. He still couldn't figure out why Reid was there at all. "Do you want something to drink?"

Still nothing but silence from the young doctor, so Hotch took matter into his own hands. Pouring himself a scotch, he also poured Reid one; only half the amount in the second glass though. Hotch wasn't sure how Reid was at holding his liqueur. He took a few steps over towards the silent man standing in the middle of his living room and held out the scotch for Reid to take. "Here."

But Reid didn't take the glass. He simply stared at the floor, seemingly not willing to move at all.

Hotch frowned once again. "What's the matter with you?" When there was no answer, the superior placed the second scotch glass on the table next to him. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me, Reid."

Suddenly, there was a spark in Reid's eyes. Without a word, he turned towards Hotch and walked past him, into the kitchen.

Hotch followed. "Reid."

No answer.

"Reid."

Nothing but a silent back glaring at him. Reid's shoulder blades moved, along with his arms, but out of Hotch's field of vision.

"Reid, I'm talking to you." Hotch was losing patience and closed the distance between the two in four steps, placing his hand on the younger man's shoulder. He wasn't ready when Reid turned around a little bit too fast, and something sharp grazed Hotch's stomach.

Stepping backwards quickly, Hotch looked in shock as Reid held the kitchen knife in a grip that turned his knuckles white. The knife had brushed against his shirt as the young agent had turned around, but hadn't pierced Hotch's skin.

Once again, there was silence reigning in the kitchen. Hotch stared in disbelief at his subordinate, trying to make out what the younger man was thinking. He struggled to locate a feeling in those glazed eyes, just a single spark of recognition or empathy. But there was nothing. The blank stare emerging from Reid's eyes told Hotch but one thing.

This wasn't Reid. He needed to find Reid in there.

"Reid", he said slowly and evenly. "Reid, listen to me. Don't do this. You are stronger than whoever is making you do this."

No response. The young agent simply stood there staring blankly at his superior, knife in his hand. Not a single muscle would move. Hotch mentally and physically prepared for the worst.

"Spencer. I know you're in there somewhere, and I know this isn't you. You have to fight this. Don't do this." He had raised his hands slowly while talking and now held them parallel with his chest. "Give me the knife."

Hotch took a gentle step towards Reid. And all hell broke loose.

Reid's arm jerked up over his head, and with a short yell he threw himself towards his superior, aiming the knife straight at his heart. Hotch caught him on pure instinct, grabbing Reid's arm with one hand and using the other one to shove the thin frame up against the kitchen counter. He was astounded at the strength his subordinate was displaying, as he suddenly found himself slammed up against the fridge, struggling to pry the knife out of Reid's hand.

"Reid!" he yelled, knowing full well that there would be no response. "Drop the knife! Let go!"

But all he got in return was a knee in the groin, and groaning he sunk to the floor, refusing to let go of the knife. Reid yanked at his arm to free it, hammering Hotch in the face and over the head with his free fist. "Stop…" Hotch growled as he fought his subordinate off the best he could. He didn't want to hurt the younger man.

Deciding enough was enough, Hotch gave Reid a hard push, sending him reeling backwards into the kitchen counter. He hit it with a dull thud, but was just as soon up on his feet and lunging at his superior. Only this time, Hotch was ready. As soon as Reid was within range, Hotch landed his fist on the young agent's face with full force. There was a disturbing cracking sound as Reid tumbled backwards, knife still in his hand.

Hotch scrambled to his knees and threw himself over Reid before the younger man could get up. The searing pain in his left shoulder made him wince and realize that he had not been quick enough to escape the knife. Straddling the young agent, he tried desperately to knock the blade out of Reid's hand by banging his wrist against the linoleum flooring. Finally, the knife skidded over the floor and landed in the far corner of the kitchen.

Reid made a fierce attack towards his superior and managed to turn the table on his superior, giving him a full 180. Hotch suddenly found himself pinned to the floor by a frame 30 lbs lighter than his. Reid grabbed the older man by the hair, lifting his head off the floor. With full force, he slammed the older man's head down, eliciting terrible, dull banging sounds. Once, twice, three times, and the fourth made the superior's fighting body go limp.

The young man jumped off Hotch's flaccid body and scrambled for the knife. His corduroy pants made his knees slip on the linoleum, but his palm finally found the blade and his hand mechanically gripped it. Spinning around towards his superior, Reid raised his hand, brandishing the knife.

Before Reid could even move forward a single inch, his body was slammed back down to the floor. This time, the knife flew from his hand on impact, and the young agent did not rise again. Blood dripped slowly from his forehead and the corner of his mouth.

Hotch panted, sitting back on his heels. He dropped the cast iron frying pan on the floor with a clang. It was the first thing that had reached his hand as he'd shoved his arm into one of the open cabinets to find something to defend himself with. His head was still spinning from the repeated impacts on the floor, and he began noticing that there was blood everywhere on his t-shirt. The knife had hit his shoulder and most likely severed an artery. Blood was literally pouring out, pulsating down over his chest. Memories flashed briefly before his eyes, telling the entire story of how much blood there was the last time he had been stabbed. Also in his own apartment. Shaking his head, he began standing up, but failed. The thin veil of gray floating over his eyes threatened to render him unconscious if he didn't do something right now.

Crawling over the floor, holding his injured arm close to his chest, he reached the living room table and with shaking fingers, he grabbed his cell phone. Dialing, he put the phone on speaker and placed it back on the table while searching the pile on the table for something.

"_911, what's your emergency?"_

"This is Special Agent Aaron Hotchner of the FBI, I have two…" his head spun, and he had to lean on the table momentarily. "…two agents down on 715 Beecher. The Langham building, apartment 121. I need…" His head spun again. "…an ambulance."

"_I'll send two units right now, Sir. Sir?"_

Hotch had left the phone on the table, crawling back to Reid. He hated doing it, but knew he had to for his own safety. Pulling dizzily at the young agent's arms, he fastened his cuffs around both wrists behind the lanky back. Reid was breathing slowly and shallowly as he lay face down on the floor.

Making sure they were not too tight, Hotch leaned back against the counter, closing his eyes. Moments later, he drifted into unconsciousness, so many questions still spinning in his head. Blood continued to pour from his wound as he slowly slipped away from reality and into oblivion.


	10. Words Can Never Hurt Me

**A/N: Alrighty, here we go - the tenth and final chapter of "Words.." Maybe now you will all get the answers you have been wanting so badly. Oh, and this chapter contains spoilers for season 5, so if you haven't seen it you might wanna steer clear. Or not, if you're super curious :) Beta read by the wonderful, fantabulous, amazing (and also very beautiful) LT. Enjoy!**

-o-o-o-

_"Watch your thoughts, for they become words.  
Watch your words, for they become actions.  
Watch your actions, for they become habits.  
Watch your habits, for they become character.  
__Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny."  
-- Unknown source_

-o-o-o-

With his arm in a sling, Aaron Hotchner walked into the waiting room of Dr. Helen Schwartz's office at the FBI. Nine days had passed since the event in his apartment, when his youngest subordinate had attempted to take his life by stabbing him to death.

For a few moments, it had been touch and go for the senior profiler on the operating table, but he had pulled through like he always had. The attending surgeon had later told him that it had been no less than a miracle that he had survived, due to the massive blood loss.

Reid had gotten away much easier, having only suffered a concussion from the blow to the head. He had woken up hours later, desperate to see his superior, being nearly in tears.

Hotch remembered waking up in the hospital room, realizing that the young agent sat by his side accompanied by Morgan as well as two armed officers.

He could vividly remember Reid's words.

_-f-f-f-_

"_Hotch, oh God, Hotch, I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry." The young agent covered his face with his hands briefly, and then looked up again. "I don't know what happened!"_

"_S'okay…" Hotch hissed, throat still sore from the intubation._

"_No, no it's _not _okay!" Reid shook his head furiously. "I tried to…to…"_

_Hotch nodded, trying to look reassuring. "I know…"_

_Reid sighed, rubbing the root of his nose. "It was like…" he began. "…someone was moving my body for me, like I was on remote. I could see and feel everything, but I couldn't control my body! I just…it just…" His voice faded out, him not knowing what to say. _

_Morgan stepped in, placing a hand on Reid's shoulder. "He knows, Reid."_

_A short look at Hotch, who looked much less strong than he usually did, confirmed Morgan's assumption. Hotch knew. Reid could see it in his eyes. Even though his superior couldn't articulate the words, it was clear. Yet the young agent couldn't help feeling like a criminal. Which he indeed was. He had attempted murder on his boss. A dream come true for many, but to him it was beyond hellish._

"_I'm so sorry", he whispered meekly, his big puppy eyes looking pleadingly at his unit chief._

_An unreadable hiss from his superior was all he got in response, but it was enough._

_Morgan squeezed the thin shoulder under his fingers. "We should go." He turned to Hotch. "I'll come back when you're a bit more awake. The doctor says you're gonna make a full recovery." Leaning in slightly, he smirked. "Like we'd expect anything less from you."_

_He tapped Reid's shoulder and the young agent rose. "Get some sleep", the older agent said as he led the young genius out the door. _

_Hotch looked at the ceiling for a short while, trying to make sense of the situation, but his mind was too foggy to piece anything together, and he slowly drifted back into blissful sleep._

_-f-f-f-_

Hotch shook his head and entered back into the present. Walking up to the assistant outside the office, he cleared his throat.

"SSA Hotchner, I have an appointment."

The young, brunet assistant looked up from her keyboard and smiled at the handsome man before her. "Ah, yes – Agent Hotchner. The others are already inside waiting for you."

Hotch nodded in understanding and steered his steps towards the white wooden door. Without knocking, he stepped inside.

Dr. Schwartz sat in a large leather chair on one side of a desk and Reid sat opposite her, nervously fiddling with his fingers on his lap. They both turned as Hotch entered the room. Dr. Schwartz rose.

"Agent Hotchner, welcome." She reached out to shake his hand and motioned him to sit. Dr. Schwartz was FBI's leading expert on the effects of brainwashing and the art of deprogramming and had been working with agents who had returned from missions abroad, unable to even spell their own names or chew their food. She had gladly taken Reid under her wings.

Reid threw a tentative look at his superior. It was only the second time they met after what had happened in Hotch's apartment, and Reid still wasn't sure what was moving inside the older agent's head. But he had to trust his instincts, and they told him that Hotch really did understand what had happened. And if he didn't, he would get the answers today.

"It was nice of you to join us, Agent Hotchner", Dr. Schwartz said with a comforting smile. "Coffee?"

"Please."

As Dr. Schwartz went to the coffee pot to pour another cup of java, Hotch caught Reid's eyes. He could read everything in them.

"I know what you're thinking", he said in a hushed voice.

Reid let his eyes fall to the fingers twisting hopelessly in his lap. "I'm…"

"I understand", Hotch interrupted. You don't need to explain. Did you…?" He was interrupted by the blue cup bearing the FBI logo on the side touching ground on the table before him. He straightened his back and nodded a thank you as the Doctor sat down across from them and folded her hands on the oak surface of the desk.

"Agent Hotchner. Dr. Reid and I have been very successful during our sessions. We've managed to rid Spencer's mind of the barriers and commands which were implanted there, including the prompt of your assassination."

Hotch felt a cold chill run down his spine. Someone had actually brainwashed and programmed one of his subordinates to murder him. Was there really someone who hated him that much? He could come up with a few names, but…

"We've been working eleven hours per day for six days and as far as I can tell, he has made a complete recovery." Dr. Schwartz drew a deep breath. "Unfortunately, we were not able to recover enough memories to find out who was behind all of this."

Hotch felt his heart sink more than a mile.

Reid sighed. "I know that I know who it was, I was thinking about it that same day…" He halted himself momentarily, but continued. "…but now I can't even make out the color of the sky when I woke up."

Dr. Schwartz nodded understandingly. "It's normal for some memories to be virtually evaporated during the process of deprogramming. It's unfortunate that it had to be this one."

"It's better than being a walking time bomb", Reid muttered dejectedly. "But still…I feel like I'm sitting on the answer, but I just can't reach it."

"We'll find out who did it", Hotch said firmly. "It's what we do."

Then the superior did something Reid was not at all ready for. He reached out across the chair and placed his hand over Reid's, giving it a squeeze.

"This is not your fault", he said in a firm, slow voice, looking Reid straight in the eyes. "I want you to remember that. _You_ did not do this." He then let go of the thin fingers chilling his palm and stood up, facing Dr. Schwartz. "Thank you, Dr. Schwartz, for everything." Shaking her hand, he headed for the door.

"Go home, Reid. I'll see you Monday." With that, he closed the door behind him and disappeared from the office.

Reid looked at his fingers while drawing a deep breath. As he stood, he was halted by the Doctor.

"He's right, Spencer. You can't blame this on yourself. I've seen it more times than I can count. Brain washing is a very efficient way to get dirty work done while getting other people's innocent hands bloodied. Don't blame yourself; it will eat you up from the inside."

Reid nodded and gave the woman a short smile. "Thanks, I'll try."

He'd try. But he didn't know if he'd succeed.

-o-o-o-

Hotch walked through the parking garage towards his car. The black Lincoln MKS waited patiently at the far end of the garage, ready to take him home to his – hopefully safe – home. His arm ached, but he'd be damned if he let a silly thing like a stab wound hinder him in his daily life. Pressing the button on the keychain, he unlocked the car from a distance.

Only a second after the car had flashed its lights in response, Hotch's phone began blaring out the much too familiar ring tone. He groaned inwardly, not wanting to speed off to Frogballs, Arkansas at the moment. Still, he dutifully pulled the phone from his pocket. A frown spread on his face as he read the caller ID.

_Private number._

Hesitantly, he flipped it open. "Hotchner."

"_Hello, Agent Hotchner."_

The voice hit Hotch in the chest like a sledge hammer. Or a razor sharp kitchen knife. The superior chuckle at the other end of the line told him that he had been silent for just a second too long.

"_I hear you remember me!"_

"How could I forget", Hotch mumbled into the receiver.

"_I bet you think about me every day…",_ the voice continued.

Hotch cursed himself for not staying at the office for just 15 minutes longer. He could have had Garcia put a trail on the phone immediately. By the time they got the number traced now, it would be too late. In any case, he turned on his heel and began walking swiftly back to Garcia's dungeon.

"…_every day"_, the voice kept on taunting him, _"and every time you look in the mirror after you shower…"_

The voice oozed of superiority, and it sickened Hotch to the brink of losing what little lunch he had managed to force down his throat.

"I'm gonna get you", he spat into the phone, "and when I do, you better pray there are cops nearby, or I will kill you."

"_Oh, Agent Hotchner, how you underestimate me"_, the man on the other end of the line said teasingly. _"That was your mistake last time. Didn't your mother teach you that you have to learn from your mistakes?"_

"Listen, Foyet…" Hotch began, completely infuriated, but did not have a chance to continue before he was rudely interrupted.

"_No, you listen, Agent Hotchner."_ The tone had changed from teasing and taunting to firm. _"It was easy for me to kill all those people. It was easy for me to get into your apartment, and I enjoyed cutting you up like a thanksgiving turkey. But you know what the easiest thing was?"_

"I don't care about your sick games", Hotch nearly barked as he reached the elevator doors and repeatedly banged the button.

"_The easiest thing, Agent Hotchner, was to make your own agent try to kill you."_

There was dead silence on both ends for a few moments. Hotch tried desperately to contain his rage, but it finally ran over the edge. "You leave my agents out of this, you sick fuck! Whatever games you wanna play, you play them with me!" His faced turned a blossoming red as he screamed into the phone.

"_Oh, but I am playing, Agent Hotchner. Tag. You're it."_

Click.

Hotch stood for a second with the phone against his ear, then with a scream of pure fury, he hurled the phone into the wall across the room, shattering it into a million irretrievable pieces. His breathing was erratic, and he was practically boiling inside. Foyet was taunting him, and it drove him crazy. And what was worse, he had almost succeeded in his quest to put the unit chief six feet under. Hotch swore to himself that the day they caught Foyet, he would no longer be an FBI-agent. He would simply be a man.

A man with a vengeance.

-o-o-o-

Reid stepped through the front doors of the FBI headquarters and felt a short but fresh breeze of cool air against his skin. He would enjoy the short walk to the subway station. It had been a long time since he dared walk on his own anywhere.

A couple of birds flew by over his head as he crossed the street and took a left towards the station. In his front pocket, his phone began playing its merry tune, and with a sigh he fished it out and brought it to his ear.

"Reid."

"_Sweetie, you forgot your jacket in the bullpen!"_ The chipper voice of Penelope Garcia graced his ear.

"I'll grab it come Monday, Garcia. It's warm outside." He smiled at her concern.

"_If you say so, little brainmaster. Toodles!"_

Reid hung up the phone with a short chuckle. Before he could put it back in his pocket, it began ringing again. Without looking at the caller ID, he flipped it open.

"Garcia, it's okay, I'll pick it up Monday."

"_Sticks and stones may break my bones…"_

Reid stopped short; froze in his tracks, and stared blankly and mindlessly into thin air as the voice on the other end of the line proceeded to convey its message.

"…_but words can never hurt me."_

The end.


End file.
